Without A Word
by queenconniebee
Summary: She's not just another face in the crowd. As her eyes lock with his, he is unable to pretend that he's forgotten everything they ever were. Even eight months on, what does it matter where he goes, where he works, who he meets, if he can't be with her?


He sat at the bar stool, moving his glass across the surface aimlessly as he waited for Louise. He'd begged her to keep the news of his brief return to herself, and considering his reason, he was fairly sure that she would do so. His body had pulled him to the department that morning, his feet had subconsciously led him to the side hedgerow, and he had leant against the wall and thought back to the times before when he had stood here, waiting to hear the tell-tale clicking of her heels as she walked, unaware of him being there. Ready to pull her towards him, catch her beautifully off guard.

"Jacob!" His head turned, over the general hubbub he heard his named called, and soon enough a small figure purposefully walked over to him, as if to engage in a friendly embrace. But then he saw her face change, gradually thinking the better of it, deciding instead to settle on the stool that he had saved beside his own and positioning her bag on top of the counter. They both looked at each other a little awkwardly until the bartender came up to where they were, Louise using this as an opportunity to pause the uncomfortable moment between them. She then cleared her throat, turning back to Jacob who still seemed at a loss as to what he could say. How did he greet a good friend after all of this time had passed, begin to offer some sort of explanation as to all that had happened…

"How could you just leave her, Jacob? After everything you both went through, and with Grace… You just upped and left!"

 _Louise. So direct and mannered, as ever._

"It wasn't like that, Lou." He sighed, looking squarely at her, hand poised on the rim of his glass.

"I'll say again, you upped and left, eight months ago. It was just like that."

Jacob shook his head, looking down into his glass. Of course, he had expected this. But it didn't make answering the interrogation any easier. He closed his eyes, forcing back the lump that instantly formed in his throat.

"Jacob, say something. Eight. Months."

"I'm sorry, Lou."

"You're sorry!?" Her exclamation was cut short by the arrival of her drink, to which she thanked the bartender for and took a grateful sip of.

"I hurt her, I hurt them. Staying here would have added to that, I told her this. She knows, Lou, I didn't just abandon her." Jacob spoke quietly, regretting how his choice of words completely contrasted with his feelings, noting the slight shake of Louise's head as she put down her drink.

"But you'd rather that's what people thought than let us know the truth? Your friends?" She looked directly at him, her lips pursed and accusing.

 _Yes. Because my reaction to seeing the woman I love lose herself, was to abandon her when she needed me._

"I want…" He struggled, fighting within himself. He couldn't see her, he couldn't talk to her. Not now. Now after all this, not when she had the chance to move on. But then the other thoughts screamed at him, this was Connie. He knew her, he knew damn well that neither of them had a hope of forgetting what they had shared. What they could have shared, had he not been so stupid.

Had he not been so selfish.

Louise rolled her eyes, already she'd had enough and had known that it would be like this. That he would be like this; too reluctant to make things right and too willing to try again, all at once. She turned slightly on her stool to take in the atmosphere of the establishment they had met in, her eyes immediately settling on a figure, her body releasing a sigh of utter and complete exasperation and disbelief.

Of course this would happen.

"Oh, I don't believe it. It's like some sick, ill-fated destiny, look behind you." She half muttered, nudging his forearm on the table.

He didn't need to. Because then then he heard it.

Her low, knowing laugh.

His heart initially skipped before plummeting into his stomach, his fingers tensing around his glass as he willed himself to stay put, to keep his focus forwards. He closed his eyes, his ears desperately searching amongst the light chatter and conversation of the room for that sound again.

Louise stood up, tucking her stool in and sidling around the other seats to make her way to the other side of the room, taking care to stand right in the woman's eye line. She had a vague suspicion as to what had happened, as to what had prompted Jacob's sudden flight. But she couldn't just let this go after all of this time, she couldn't just let his presence go unnoticed. And at the same time, she couldn't deny Jacob the chance to see her, the woman he was so obviously still in love with, even if it was from a distance, no matter how angry she herself was with him. Because just from that brief conversation, she could tell that it was quite possibly the last time that he would come back here. He could see the pain, the effect of those memories that were constantly resurfacing and refreshing the longer he stayed.

She stopped, realising too late that Connie was in fact accompanied. But she couldn't simply turn back now, she would look ridiculous. Slowly, she inched forwards between the other seats and little booths of the restaurant space, locking eyes with the consultant as she passed their table. She stood frozen, no matter the time she had spent working in the same department as this woman, her glare and stern stance would never cease to have the power to render her awestruck. Louise closed her eyes momentarily before turning her head back just slightly back to where she knew Jacob was sitting, indicating that she was with someone herself, and making a point of now looking for them. When she was fairly certain that she had 'performed', she continued, making her way to the ladies' as she hoped her poor attempt at revealing Jacob's presence had been successful.

He hadn't seen Louise's pointed glance back, he had no suspicion that she was planning to interfere, despite the vague glimmer of good intention behind it. He was still sat with his back turned to the table at which Connie sat, curious as to the intent look of the woman who had come to stand in front of her just now, clearly wanting her to direct her attention to where she had signalled for it to be directed to, over to the bar. Was somebody in trouble? It was this thought that made her lift her head, and then raise from her seat slightly just to see above the few heads that disrupted her view over to the bar.

She saw nothing, nobody in trouble, nothing untoward. She lowered back to her seat and picked up her drink, the man beside her asking a question to which she then responded, glancing up once more to see a sharp turn of a head back beside the bar area, and a pair of familiar, dark eyes connecting with her own green ones.

He saw everything, all at once. The shake of her hand as she lowered her glass. The man beside her as he continued to talk, his head bending closer to her hair, but she wasn't listening. He could see her now as if she was sitting directly opposite him. The flow of people between them seemed to ebb, his vision of her wasn't blurred by any bodies, he could see straight through to her and her to him. He had so many questions, so many things he wanted to ask her about, to check after. He wanted to make sure that she was okay, and that Grace was okay. In terms of their happiness, if what he saw now was anything to go by, he didn't need to ask to know the answer. It was a Wednesday and she was drinking; she was thin, her cheekbones jutting from her face more prominently than he had ever known them to. He noticed then that her hair was dark again, much more like how it had been when she had first come to know him.

His gaze flicked quickly from her face to the man next her, one hand tucked beside him as he leaned towards her, his other settled on the table around the base of his glass. Enraptured. Happy. Most likely oblivious to every obstacle the woman next to him had faced in the last year, and the rest. The table she sat at was covered in green folders and crisp white sheets of paper; he guessed she had come here initially to work and 'distraction' had taken over. It was Connie's knee jerk reaction. When bad things got too real, the distractions forced them away for long enough to allow her to cope, to carry on being seen how she wanted to be seen. His heart ached, how he knew these things about her, how he should be the one she allowed in to comfort her.

"Connie." He whispered, before he could stop himself. He saw her lips part slightly, how her breath fluttered in her throat. He knew she felt it too. The immediate pull, the need to reach for the other. Yet they both sat frozen, heads frantic, eyes unmoving from the others'.


End file.
